


Amateur Hour

by missingnowrites



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Action, Action Comedy, Bank Robbery, Battle Buddies (Achievement Hunter), Comedy of Errors, Flirting, Gun Violence, Hostage Situations, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Fake AH Crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21929125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingnowrites/pseuds/missingnowrites
Summary: Gavin is in the middle of robbing the bank, when a pair of robbers decide to ruin his carefully laid plans.
Relationships: Gavin Free/Ryan Haywood
Comments: 26
Kudos: 132





	Amateur Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Soulfishie's tags on [this post](https://soulfishie.tumblr.com/post/163267371841/writing-prompt-s-suddenly-you-hear-alarms-go-off). It's been sitting on my To Write List for two years, and now I finally got around to writing it.

The bank he’d picked was a small one, towards the outskirts of the city. Far enough from anything central and too small for the big fish to bother with, but with enough internal security to deter small fry. Besides, it was easier to attack the weekly armoured transport than bother with the comparatively tiny vault.

If you were a group of people, that is.

Gavin, however, was on his own and on somewhat of a lucky streak. He had intel on a security update, and just the right connections to join the team installing them. It handed him everything he needed on a silver platter: layout, specs on security, and most importantly, an opportunity.

So he bypassed the queue to the teller and approached a guard instead, flashing his temporary work id.

“Hi, I’m with Locke & Steel security consulting? We got a complaint ticket about the work we did last week.” Gavin shrugged, quirking a ‘what can you do’ smile. “I’m here to fix it?”

The guard eyed him with suspicion, and Gavin met him with easy confidence. A touch of affected boredom made it easy to bypass scrutiny, people expected nerves, anxiety from liars. And the best lies were based in truth: Gavin had, after all, worked with the security team to install the new tech.

“One moment, sir,” the guard said, and Gavin nodded, folding his hands and settling in to wait. The guard’s shoulders relaxed minimally, and Gavin knew he’d won already.

Everything was going according to plan. Gavin got behind the teller, making small talk with one of the managers as they ran his id. He wasn’t worried, after all, his cover had passed scrutiny before. From the corner of his eyes he watched as an employee set a jewelry box on the cart inbound for the vault, making a mental note to wait for that to get in before staging his theft.

Then everything went to shit as two men walked in through the front door, one wearing a bright white cowboy hat and the other sporting a skull mask, both of them toting guns. A ripple went through the crowd, attention turning towards them as they strode forward with confidence.

A warning shot echoed through the lobby.

“This is a robbery,” cowboy hat said into the ringing silence, voice pleasant. “Everybody hit the floor.”

Well, fuck.

Gavin dropped behind the teller, mind flashing through contingencies. He could play hostage, but a police background check might blow his cover. Hiding from the robbers seemed like the best choice, but he hadn’t even gotten his hands on anything worthwhile. His gaze fell on the jewelry box. He was pretty sure he saw diamonds earlier, when the owner opened it furtively.

A glance around showed everyone distracted by the robbers.

Perfect.

* * *

Gavin cursed under his breath, trying to catch the loose screw as it dropped away. It slipped through his fingers, clattering onto the tiles. Gavin stilled, eyeing the door to the toilets over the stall wall warily. 

Silence.

Gavin exhaled, wiping the sweat from his brow, and hefted his backpack higher. Now wasn’t the right time to lose his nerve. He slid the grille from the vent and set it down on the floor as noiselessly as possible. Then he stuffed his backpack in, scrambling up and climbing in after it-

Footsteps, loud and echoing on the tiles, and the door banged open.

Gavin froze.

Bad choice, he should have vanished into the vent or dropped back down to hide in the stall. Instead he was stuck in between, ass hanging out of the vent, clearly visible above the partition. Gavin glanced back over his shoulder, meeting the eyes of the masked man.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Then it was a scramble of who was quicker. The Vagabond - and really, what even was his luck, it had to be the freaking Vagabond - rammed the stall door open, while Gavin kicked at the wall, squirming into the tiny vent. Below him, the toilet flushed as he stepped on the button, and a hand wrapped around his ankle. Gavin squawked, twisting and kicking out, sole connecting with the latex of the mask.

The grip on his ankle tightened, muffled curses followed by a second hand, and then the Vagabond _pulled_.

Gavin yelped, fingers scabbling fruitlessly over metal, trying to find something to hold on to, some edge to leverage. But the only thing in here with him was his backpack, and he wasn’t taking _that_ with him when he was about to come face to face with bank robbers.

The timing was just perfect.

“Gotcha,” the Vagabond grunted, and Gavin twisted and squirmed, but the Vagabond wrapped an arm around his waist, pinning his arms to his sides.

Gavin threw himself forward with all his weight, and then back as the Vagabond stumbled, hitting him in the chin. Pain blossomed on the back of his head, and the Vagabond cursed under his breath, but tightened his grip.

Something sharp pressed into his side, just below his ribs, and Gavin stilled. A glance down confirmed the Vagabond was holding a knife.

“Will you quit struggling already,” he grumbled, not quite a question, but Gavin nodded anyway and held very still. The knife dropped away as the Vagabond let go of him, only to be replaced with the nuzzle of a gun between his shoulder blades.

“Could I please wash my hands first?” Gavin asked, trying to think, to stall for time.

The Vagabond snorted, gun poking into his back. “Move,” he ordered, giving Gavin a shove.

Gavin stumbled under the force, and then he was slipping, something small and round and hard giving way under his shoe. In a heartbeat of clarity Gavin knew he was slipping on the stupid screw, and then he’s flailing, barely catching himself on his hands before he could break his nose on the floor. His legs tangled with the Vagabond’s, and on instinct Gavin lashed out. The Vagabond faltered, fumbling with his rifle as he tried to regain his balance, and Gavin didn’t stop to think. He took the opportunity, scrambling forward and up, and ran.

Unfortunately, the Vagabond wasn’t distracted for long, raising his rifle and shouting. Luckily for him, Gavin was _fast_ , out of the door and halfway down the hall by the time shots were fired. He turned around the corner, planning to duck behind some decorative plants, when he ran smackdab into the second robber.

He was shorter than the Vagabond, much shorter than Gavin, even. He made up for it with rather broad shoulders and bulging biceps. Orange pants, purple jacket an armoured vest worn under it, orange shirt peeking out in between, the ensemble was topped off with a white cowboy hat. Not nearly as notorious as the Vagabond, but this criminal too had been making a name for himself.

So Gavin ran into Rimmy Tim and bounced off his chest, landing flat on his ass while Tim crossed his arms.

“In my defense,” Gavin blurted out, propping himself up on his elbows. Footsteps behind him announced the Vagabond’s arrival, and Rimmy Tim blocked his way out. “In my defense, I was robbing this bank first.”

“That so?” Tim arched an eyebrow at him, lips twisting into a smirk. “Well, too bad. You’re clearly outgunned.”

There was a _click_ behind him, and Gavin swallowed, all too aware of the rifle pointed at his head. He needed to figure out a different escape plan, and distract them from searching for his backpack.

“Look, I only cleared out that one teller before you burst in, and it was barely enough in bills to pay for my rent-” As long as he ignored the jewelry he took, anyway. “Peanuts compared to what’s in the vault, so really, you’re just wasting time at this point.”

“Why don’t you leave that to us to decide,” Rimmy Tim drawled, nodding to the Vagabond. “You got his backpack?”

“He hid it in the vent,” Vagabond said, and shit, there went that plan. It seemed to show in his expression because Tim shot him a smug look.

“Alright.” He dropped his crossed arms and pulled out a semi-automatic. “Where’s your partner, blondie?”

Gavin opened his mouth, then paused, because what? “Partner?”

Tim mistook his confusion for hesitation. His grin widened. “Nobody’s stupid enough to rob a bank without back-up. Who’s gonna watch the hostages while you’re in the vault, huh?”

“Uh…” Gavin blinked, dumbfounded. “I wasn’t going for the vault?”

“Yeah, right.” Rimmy Tim scoffed. “Pull the other one.”

“So maybe I didn’t have a plan. None of your business, innit?” Gavin snapped, standing up and brushing himself off. In the distance was the familiar sound of sirens, easy to tune out when you lived in Los Santos. Gavin cocked his head as something occurred to him. “Wait. If you’re both here… who’s stopping the manager from calling the cops?”

Tim’s mouth opened, then he paused. Blanching, his mouth snapped shut and he shared a look with the Vagabond.

“Fuck.” Tim’s mouth twisted into a grimace, eyes flickering between Gavin and the Vagabond. A pause in which Gavin could see the gears turning behind Tim’s face, then Vagabond spoke up.

“You got the explosives?”

Tim nodded, expression tight. “Not enough to blow our way into the vault _and_ a way out, though.”

“Tie him up for the cops to find, buy us some time?” the Vagabond suggested. A gloved hand landed on Gavin’s shoulder, pinning him in place. Tim met his eyes, seriously considering that, and no, thank you.

“Or,” Gavin blurted out, because no way was he getting caught because these two had terrible timing, “I could get you into the vault and you can use your explosives to blow out the wall.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tim raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “And how are you going to do that, exactly?”

“I’ve got the tools in my backpack,” Gavin explained, nodding his head towards the washroom. “Just let me get it, and I’ll clear your way.”

“‘Didn’t have a plan’, was it,” the Vagabond drawled, echoing his earlier words. Gavin huffed, starting to get annoyed by these assholes ruining his foolproof heist. If you ignored the fact that he was improvising his way into the vault. Or his way out, if he didn’t get caught.

“Don’t need a partner if I sneak in by myself, do I?” He shrugged the Vagabond’s hand off and turned to Rimmy Tim. “Your choice. We going or are we waiting here until the cops show up?”

Tim levelled a glare at him, but gestured towards the Vagabond. “You grab his bag, I’ll take him with me to the vault.”

The Vagabond gave him a sharp nod, turning on his heel to follow his command. Tim narrowed his eyes at Gavin, cracking his knuckles pointedly. “No funny business, got it? You’re still outgunned.”

Seeing as he had no weapons on him, Gavin had to give him that. So he shrugged, putting on a shit-eating grin. “After you.”

“Oh no, buddy.” Rimmy Tim shoved him ahead, one hand hovering over his rifle. “You first, I’ll be right behind you.”

Gavin shrugged and led the way. He had a sneaking suspicion that Rimmy Tim was unfamiliar with the bank’s layout, or at least unsure of how to get to the vault. He still had the keycard he’d picked off the shift manager, which allowed them through the locked down security checkpoint without much hassle. The building appeared empty, the hostages clearly using the robbers’ distraction to flee.

Well. At least Gavin messed up their plans as much as they messed up his.

The vault itself was a double-deadbolted, extra thick steel monstrosity with a fancy new lock they installed two weeks ago. One of the fancy new locks, in fact, Gavin had gotten his hands on and fudged with the programming, leaving himself a backdoor in the system. He could probably hack it manually, given time, but he’d bought a shiny new gadget just for this job. Rimmy Tim stared in disbelief as Gavin pulled the scanner out of his backpack once the Vagabond caught up with them.

“Is that-” Tim started, cutting himself off with a strangled noise.

“The Apple Chrome Smart Tech Randomizer 9000 Pro?” Gavin unscrewed the keypad panel, cutting the wires he needed. Connecting his device to the cut ends, Gavin hit the button to start his pre-prepared code. “Yes. In limited edition rose gold.”

Counterpoint to Tim’s disbelief, the Vagabond cocked his head and made an interested noise.

“Fifty thousand combinations per minute?” he asked, and Gavin’s head bopped up in surprise. “With adaptable smart A.I.?”

“Yes!” Gavin grinned up at him, just as the device beeped and lit up green. Gavin held it next to the keypad and started typing in the seven digit code. “You’re familiar with it?”

“I dabble,” the Vagabond demurred. The safe unlocked with a loud _click_.

“Of course, I introduced a bug into this series of locks, limiting the possible range of valid combinations,” Gavin explained proudly as he detached his tech. “Otherwise it might take up to an hour to crack.”

“Clever,” Vagabond murmured, looking over Gavin’s shoulder, leaning into his space. Rimmy Tim groaned, shoving his partner to bump into Gavin.

“Work first, flirt later.”

With that, Tim shouldered the safe door open, stepping inside. Gavin, face flushed at the insinuation, cast a glance at the Vagabond, who was avoiding his eyes, before following him in. The safe was pretty small, probably because Los Santos wasn’t known to be the safest place to keep money locally, but there was a nice stack of money on a table in the middle. Rows of lockboxes lined the walls, and the Vagabond got to work on picking them immediately, seemingly choosing a box at random. Rimmy Tim pulled out a duffle bag, shaking it out and swiping the money in.

Gavin lingered in the doorway, putting his tech away and zipping up his backpack to hide the jewelry he was hiding from the other two. Instead he pulled out his phone and checked his hacking app, swiping between the images of the camera feed in front of the bank. Cop cars had pulled up along the street, officers in armoured vests and guns speaking to the manager off to the side, organizing into groups.

“You gonna stand there fiddling with your phone, or you gonna help?” Tim snapped, his sharp tone cutting through the silence. Gavin glanced at him and held up his phone.

“Cops are here. We should probably get the explosives now?”

“You hacked into the cameras?” the Vagabond asked, pausing where he was upending the contents of a lockbox into his own bag. If Gavin didn’t know better, he’d say that was admiration colouring his voice.

“I mean, yeah. Logical, innit?” Gavin shrugged. “I wanted to go in solo, not blind.”

“And what’d you do if you got caught without backup, huh?” Tim questioned, shooting the Vagabond a narrow-eyed look and jerking his chin towards the still locked boxes.

“I’d think of something,” Gavin insisted, pocketing his phone and stepping up to push the leftover money into his backpack, since Tim’s duffle was full.

“Sure you were.” Tim sneered, shouldering the duffle and shaking his head. “I’m setting the explosives. Get as much stuff as you can carry, then wait for the big boom.”

Vagabond glanced between the still substantial pile of money on the table and the row of lockboxes. Then he put his lockpicks away with a sigh, dragging his half-full duffle over just as Gavin zipped up his backpack.

“Don’t suppose you have a gadget for lockpicking,” Vagabond drawled, dropping the bag on its side and holding it open with one hand, using the other to shove the bills in. Gavin stepped around the table across from him and slung his backpack over his shoulder before leaning in to help.

“Nah. Didn’t have enough funds left, did I?” He shrugged, feeling the Vagabond’s eyes on him. “Expensive little buggers, those.”

“Sure.” The Vagabond made an agreeable little noise. Their hands brushed as they reached for the same stack of bills, and Gavin paused, eyes flickering up to meet the Vagabond’s icy blue ones. His fingers lingered for two rapid heartbeats, then the Vagabond continued and Gavin followed suit. He imagined he could still feel the touch, like a tingling sensation running up his skin.

Between the two of them, they filled the duffle in record time. And not a second too soon, as the ground shook under their feet, ears ringing from the muted explosion. Vagabond met Gavin’s gaze, adjusting the duffle’s strap across his chest and took out his assault rifle.

“Time to go.”

Gavin nodded, pulling out his phone and glancing at the security footage. He grimaced.

“Cops are out front. They might circle around to cut us off.”

The Vagabond acknowledged his words with a sharp nod, striding forward briskly. Gavin hesitated in the door to the safe, taking a deep breath. Then he stepped through, pushing the heavy door shut behind him.

Gunfire to his right caught his attention, and he saw Rimmy Tim ducking in the blown open wall, shooting down the alley. Vagabond strode past him, spraying the area with bullets to give himself enough time to take cover behind a trash container. Gavin glanced down at his phone to confirm his suspicion: the mouth of the alley was swarmed by cops.

He had no idea which way they had parked their escape vehicle. His own Blista was a terrible choice, at least with the police watching.

Gavin swallowed, stuffing his phone into a back pocket and… hesitated.

He could leave. Surrender to the cops, pretend to be a hostage. But they might search his backpack.

A glance down the hall. Could he make it past the metal detector and into the bathroom without alerting anyone? Without running into the cops? At least long enough to stash his loot?

“Motherfucker!” Tim yelled, blindly firing down the alley. Across from him the Vagabond crumbled down behind the container, holding his shoulder. Red started seeping through his fingers, glistening in the sunlight.

Gavin didn’t realize he’d moved until he was crouched behind Rimmy Tim, out of sight from the coppers. His eyes never left the Vagabond’s hunched over form.

“Take me hostage.”

Rimmy Tim glanced at him over his shoulder while he reloaded, fingers fumbling with the magazine. 

“What.”

Gavin tore his eyes from the Vagabond, who had dropped the rifle to unsteadily shoot at the approaching officers with a pistol one-handed. His aim weaved horribly.

“Take me hostage,” Gavin told Rimmy Tim, his voice growing hard with determination. “They don’t know I’m not a civ, do they? So.”

Tim fired another round into the alley while he thought, giving the Vagabond a short break. Under his dark jacket, the blood was hard to make out, but his fingers smeared crimson streaks over his gun as he cocked it. Gavin swallowed.

“Fuck it,” Tim swore, grabbing Gavin by the back of his shirt and dragging him up and in front. “Better raise your hands if you don’t wanna get shot.”

Gavin did, heart rabbiting in his chest. He was still wearing the ill-fitting suit he bought cheap for his technician cover, but his work id lanyard was long abandoned. Now Gavin wished he still had that along with his fake glasses, to sell his innocence to the hair-triggered cops. With his shirt rucked up and pulled loose, hair a mussed up mess from his little scuffle with Vagabond earlier, he did his best to look scared.

Not hard, considering how many guns were pointed his way.

Gavin swallowed. He could do this.

* * *

Ryan pushed their ‘hostage’ into the backseat of Jeremy’s green Toros, gun pointed inside and itching to turn it on the police keeping a polite distance. Jeremy tipped his hat to the officers, calling out in a fake Southern drawl that made Ryan wince,

“Nobody better follow us. If ye do, buddy here is dead, got it?” Jeremy gestured with his rifle to the car, pulling the driver’s door open. “We don’t see hide or tail of y’all in the next ten minutes, we drop him off in an alley… somewhere.”

Personally, Ryan felt doubtful it would work. In Los Santos, coppers cared less about civilian fatalities in the line of duty than might be expected of police elsewhere. Ideally, they’d ditch the car as soon as possible and swipe a new, unrelated one. But Ryan knew better than to think Jeremy would go with that, his partner had been going on and on about giving the car purple and orange stripes paint job with the money they were hoping to make from this little heist. He’d settle for switching the plates as soon as they lost their tail.

Ryan met Jeremy’s eyes over the car’s roof, saw his imperceptible nod, and pushed into the backseat, shutting the door behind him. Up front, Jeremy did the same, dropping the gun in the passenger’s seat to start the car. Tires squealed as they shot out of the alley, nearly ramming into a police car, which immediately followed them. Ryan rolled down the window and leaned out to take potshots at the cops, aiming for their windshield and tires.

His shoulder twinged painfully, pulling his aim off. Ryan cursed, ducking back inside as the police opened fire on them in turn.

“Gimme that,” a voice said directly next to his ear. The next moment, his rifle was plucked out of his hands, then a body leaned across from his. Their ‘hostage’ poked his head out of the car, aimed, and shot the gun.

“So much for that ruse,” Ryan murmured and grimaced, pressing his palm on his shoulder. With all the rushed activity, the wound didn’t have a chance to stop bleeding, getting increasingly irritated.

“Hold on!” Jeremy called back. Their new friend barely ducked back in in time for Jeremy to tear the wheel around, taking a turn at the last second possible. Ryan grunted as the blond guy landed on his chest, rifle digging into his stomach. He reached up instinctively to steady him by the hip, eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror. The cop cars screeched past the intersection, buying them a couple seconds as they had to find a way to turn around.

“Garage,” Ryan grit out. “We need to switch-”

“I’m not leaving the Rimmy Bull!” Jeremy protested immediately.

Ryan caught green eyes, blinking at him in bewilderment, and rolled his own. Squeezing the hip under his hand in something like reassurance, Ryan cocked his head to stare at the back of Jeremy’s head.

“We’re going to need to switch the plates.” The _idiot_ went unvoiced. “Before the cops are on us again.”

Hands on his jacket were distracting, pushing it off his shoulder, away from his wound. Ryan let it happen, choosing to meet Jeremy’s eyes through the rearview instead. They both knew it’d be best to lay low for a while. Every purple car would be suspect for the next week or so, a risk they really shouldn’t take. Fingers on his skin made Ryan shiver, breaking the staring contest.

“Jeremy. Ditch the car, report it stolen,” Ryan offered. “If all goes well, you should have it back after a week.”

“Ryan…” Jeremy stuck out his trembling bottom lip, clearly torn on this point. Ryan rolled his eyes, about to retort-

“Gavin,” blondie announced, and Ryan blinked, eyes flicking back to what their guest was doing. “This needs stitches. The bullet went clean through, so you’re lucky on that front.”

“Gavin?” Jeremy asked, voice sharp. Blondie shrugged.

“Well, if you’re introducing yourselves, it’s only fair I do too, innit?”

Panic jolted through Ryan, and he played back the last things said… fuck. They hadn’t used codenames, too used to it just being the two of them in the car. He exchanged a look with Jeremy, dropping the subject of the car. They had more important things to discuss. Like the slippery thief- Gavin- sitting in Ryan’s lap.

Heat crept up his neck as Ryan realized their position for the first time. He dropped his hand from Gavin’s hip as if burned, intending to rest it on the leather of the backseat, but landing on Gavin’s lower leg squished between Ryan’s thigh and the car door.

Gavin looked up from inspecting his gunshot wound, seeming to notice the tense silence. He glanced from Ryan to Jeremy, who pulled the car off-road, turning towards the coast.

“If you could drop me off somewhere closer to the city,” Gavin drawled, a twitch to his fingers the only sign to give away his nerves. “I’d appreciate that. I left my car at the bank.”

“Don’t think dropping you off at the bank is gonna work, buddy,” Jeremy returned, just as dry. “Unless you want to leave your stuff with us?”

Ryan glanced at the backpack next to him. On the one hand, he was itching to play around with the Randomizer. On the other hand-

“I did help you get into the vault,” Gavin pointed out, twisting around to glare at Jeremy. It shifted his weight in… interesting ways on Ryan’s lap. “I earned my cut fair and square.”

“Oh yeah?” Jeremy drawled. “And how would you’ve gotten out without us?”

“And you without me?” Gavin retorted, a grin playing around his very pretty mouth. Ryan tore his gaze away, hand sliding up Gavin’s leg to grab his attention.

“I would like to hear that plan of yours,” he said, and it wasn’t an excuse, he was honestly interested. In Gavin’s plan, not just Gavin. Jeremy still shot him a look through the rearview as if to tell him he couldn’t believe him. Ryan would stuck his tongue out, if the mask wasn’t in the way. And Gavin wasn’t looking back at him with a rather attractive smug cast to his face.

“Well,” he murmured, hand stroking up Ryan’s healthy arm, landing on his uninjured shoulder. “I’m not opposed to regaling you with my exploits. It was a very clever plan, if I may say so myself.”

“Oh?” Ryan leaned in, unable to help himself. “Do tell.” He let his fingers dance up the side of Gavin’s thigh, watching him closely. “The tech you brought speaks of preparedness.”

“It’s lovely tech, innit?” Gavin replied, the words a breathless purr, giving them an ambiguity they didn’t convey by themselves.

“Quite lovely,” Ryan agreed, and he didn’t mean the tech, either.

“Aaand we’re back to flirting,” Jeremy commented drolly, amusement clear in his voice. Ryan would switch his purple dye for _pink_ if he didn’t shut up. “Great.”

“Why don’t you drop us off at the safehouse,” he snapped, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice and failing. “Then you can drop the car off at the mechanic for the paint job. Switch the plates, you get to keep the car, problem solved.”

Jeremy brightened immediately, dropping the subject. In his lap, Gavin giggled, squeezing his uninjured shoulder.

“Sounds good to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I miss Freewood. I need to write more of it again.


End file.
